


the flowers of my feelings can finally bloom

by ohvictor



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crows, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gardens & Gardening, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22205317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvictor/pseuds/ohvictor
Summary: Gai tends to MANKAI Company's flowerbeds, and receives a visit from his sleepy boyfriend.
Relationships: Guy/Mikage Hisoka, offscreen tasutsumu and azuhoma
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	the flowers of my feelings can finally bloom

**Author's Note:**

> this is a commission for my dear friend rasa!!!! i was so excited to get to write gai/hisoka; i am so lucky to have friends who will comm me to write things i wanted to write anyway ;v; 
> 
> this contains some trauma reflection, as it is gai and hisoka who have a lot of trauma. please be careful reading it!
> 
> the title is from gai's solo (lyrics [here](https://yaycupcake.com/a3/index.php?title=DEFRAGMENTATION))!

Mornings at MANKAI company are a burst of noise and activity followed by calm. Most of the company’s members have day activities, school and jobs and shopping plans, and they make their way through the kitchen for breakfast and out the front door with all the grace of a stampede. Gai doesn’t have concrete plans this week, but that suits him; he’s been asking Fushimi for cooking tips when he can, so the breakfast rush is instructive. By the time the bustle starts to get to him, a throb in his temples signaling the threat of a headache, the clock strikes nine and the last few company members grab their toast and run for the door, leaving the dorm quiet enough for Gai to relax and help Fushimi finish the dishes.

With the dorms mostly emptied, Gai heads out to the courtyard, his usual haunt on these long mornings. He exits through the hallway side door and pauses a moment to let the morning sun wash over him, stretching the way he used to see Citronia do, like each of his muscles was tense from being inside. 

The warmth of the sun is nice. Gai bends down and collects the watering can and shears from the brick path beside the doorway, as well as the gardening gloves Yukishiro gifted him for Christmas. “ _Your hands look lovely and strong, but you don’t need them to be so rough_ ,” he’d said, pressing the folded gloves into Gai’s palms. The calluses he’s developed from gardening remind Gai that his hands are flesh, muscle, capable of adapting to hard work, but the fact that flesh also requires specific care appeals to him.

It’s unlikely that the garden has changed much since he tended to it yesterday morning. It’s just that Tsukioka has been unusually busy lately with a guest theatre role and has entrusted the courtyard to Gai. He’d put his hand on Gai’s shoulder and smiled warmly, making something in Gai’s chest feel fluttery, and said, “ _I know you’ll keep it growing just fine for me_.” A quick look at the beds of flowers and plants suggests that everything is as he left it, but Gai figures he can prune here and there.

Something else catches his interest: a man crouched next to one of the flowerbeds at the other end of the yard, his back to Gai. His silvery hair gleams under the sun as he examines a shock of marigolds Gai planted recently. This sight makes Gai’s chest even more fluttery; warm, like his gears are overheating—no, like he’s... Fond? That’s the word Yukishiro uses when he catches Tsukioka and Takatoo looking at each other, when he describes how he himself feels watching Arisugawa go on and on about something trivial. The fact that Gai, too, can feel something like this... It’s amazing, and it feels new every time. 

He approaches the kneeling figure by the garden, remembering as he does that Mikage doesn’t like being addressed or touched from behind. Even though it would be faster to walk up to him directly, Gai detours around one of the flowerbeds and approaches Mikage from the side, adjusting his footfalls to make enough sound to be heard. Mikage’s head turns lazily, and he looks up at Gai with his one visible eye, his mouth turned up at the corners. 

“Gai,” he says. His quiet voice is easily audible to Gai despite the ambient noise all around them, the sway of branches and the chatter of birds. “One of the marigolds has a new bud. That means they’re settling in, right.”

Gai kneels at Mikage’s side, setting his gardening tools on the ground beside himself, and examines the flowers, carefully pulling each bloom apart from the bunch so he can examine the petals for signs of distress. Mikage’s small hand appears next to his, indicating the bud in question. He’s right; Gai doesn’t remember seeing this yesterday. 

“The petals all look good,” Gai confirms. He goes to smile reassuringly at Mikage, and finds his mouth already in that shape without his notice. “You’re learning a lot from Tsukioka and I.”

“Mostly you,” Mikage says. 

Still balancing on his feet in the crouched pose he seems to prefer, he eyes Gai’s side, and then carefully folds himself into it. He lifts Gai’s arm and tucks himself underneath it like a blanket. Gai’s chest and face feel warm, and he cuddles Mikage against his side, hardly daring to breathe, like this is still the first time he’s held Mikage close. Even if he’s held Mikage dozens of times, even if Mikage is his _partner_ and won’t be going anywhere, Gai doesn’t want to take any of it for granted.

Oblivious to Gai’s thoughts, Mikage yawns. He butts his head against Gai’s chin, and blinks his single visible eye. “Where’s everyone else?”

Gai knows this; he knows everyone’s schedules as soon as they’re told to him, the instant memorization reflex one of the more useful programs he’s retained from his android training. Privately, he’s sometimes thought he and Mikage make an ironic pair—the amnesiac who sleeps through scheduling, and the android who remembers everything. There’s an English saying; _Ignorance is bliss_. Gai wonders what it’s like to be at peace. He knows Mikage would wonder that, too. 

Ah, he’s gotten distracted and forgotten the question. If he was truly an android, he would have spat out the answer automatically, but he’s learned to get lost in thought now. This sort of behavior is a little rude, though. He reaches for Mikage’s hand, a selfish impulse. “Tsukioka is at his theatre job. I believe Takatoo is out shopping with the Director.” He tilts his head to the side, watching Mikage thread their fingers together. Mikage’s fingers feel so small in comparison to Gai’s own, even though they are both adults. “Do you know where Arisugawa is today?”

Mikage lifts his gaze, levelling Gai an unimpressed look that somehow lands perfectly despite only being delivered with one eye. (Gai can’t help but smile, aware of his expression now because of the warmth he feels as he does it.) “Alice is doing poet stuff,” he says, waving the hand Gai’s not holding dismissively. Gai raises his eyebrows, and Mikage elaborates. “He finished a ton of poems for his new book, and he wanted to drop them off with his editor. That’s across town, so he said he’s making a day of it.”

“That fits what Yukishiro told me as we were getting ready this morning, that he was going downtown with Arisugawa.”

Mikage nods. “Azuma’s always looking for date opportunities,” he hums. 

His thumb traces a circle onto the back of Gai’s hand, and Gai’s distracted again. “...Yes.”

There’s no fooling Mikage; his one eye fixes on Gai’s face again, and his mouth turns up in a catlike smirk. “That leaves the two of us here.” The smirk splits open as he yawns again, exhaling a little noise. 

It’s impossibly cute. Gai looks back at the flowers, having mercy on his own heart. “Well, there are the other troupes as well.”

Mikage yawns again, turning his face to muffle the yawn in Gai’s side. He’s probably hitting his limit on being awake, ready to doze away the morning. Maybe if Gai can finish his gardening tasks quickly, he can curl up somewhere with Mikage and read, or just watch the rise and fall of Mikage’s shoulders. That is, if Mikage stays awake for now; from the way he’s slumping into Gai’s shoulder, settling more and more of his body weight onto Gai, his one eyelid drooping shut, it seems like he won’t. 

That’s okay. The gardening isn’t immediate anyway. Nothing is immediate, not when Mikage is pressed against his side, the sun catching on his cheek and illuminating a crescent of pale skin, giving life to the fine blond hairs on his jaw. Looking at him fills Gai with love. It shouldn’t be possible to feel this content, this filled with light, but he’s felt a lot of impossible things since leaving his post in Zahra.

Mikage will sleep for hours if allowed, and Gai would like to get the gardening done before it gets too late. For now, he thinks, he can at least make a mental list of the tasks he wants to do, from his vantage point with a decent view of this flowerbed. The marigolds look good, but he’d like to assess them more fully. As he cranes his neck to see one of the flowerbeds further down the courtyard, he spots a bird, a little crow, hopping about in the grass nearby. Gai’s been still for so long that the crow pays him and Mikage no mind, attending its business as if there are no humans within feet of it. As Gai watches it, it lifts its head and fixes Gai with its beady stare, regarding him curiously for a moment, and then returns to its inspection of a blade of grass.

A shiver runs through Mikage’s body, rippling into Gai’s side through contact. Gai looks down and sees Mikage’s mouth pulled into a frown, his jaw tensed. He must be having a nightmare, Gai thinks, suddenly alert. His hand hovers over Mikage’s arm, unsure if he should try to wake him. As he deliberates, Mikage’s face contorts into a pained grimace, and he shivers again, as though a chill has passed through the courtyard. This solidifies Gai’s resolve; he reaches for Mikage’s arm and shakes it carefully, like the brisk way he used to rouse Citronia when they had to be up early; he knows Mikage panics if touched on his back or shoulder, even if those are the places to shake someone awake.

Mikage’s eyes don’t open, and his arm remains slack in Gai’s grip. His lips move faintly, though Gai can’t make out any words. 

“Mikage,” Gai says, and gives his arm another shake, repeating the only actions he can think of, like a broken computer program. It does nothing to quell the panic rising in his chest, like a computer overheating. He feels useless, broken, a waterlogged machine. Mikage shudders against his side, and Gai’s thoughts race faster in the same feedback loop, _broken, broken_. 

There’s nothing more he can do to rouse Mikage if he won’t respond to touch or voice. Desperate, he reaches for Mikage’s hand and squeezes it, Mikage’s small fingers soft against Gai’s palm. He watches Mikage’s head loll to one side, his lips quivering, and then his eye flickers open, his green iris catching the sun as he looks up at Gai. 

“Mikage,” Gai repeats, breathless. 

“Gai,” Mikage says. A small frown appears on his lips, and he puts one hand on Gai’s cheek, feeling his skin. After a moment, he moves his fingers down to press under Gai’s jaw, feeling Gai’s pulse. “You’re panicking?”

It feels wrong that Mikage should be caring for Gai right now, but Gai closes his eyes for a moment, corralling his heartbeat back down to normal. He never used to get anxious like this, but he also used to think there was a fan inside him that whirred louder when he encountered a difficult situation. Now, he knows that’s his heart, and he wonders how he could have mistaken the thundering rhythm of it for something like a fan. 

With his pulse approaching a more manageable rate, he opens his eyes and looks down at Mikage. It’s not fair that such a beautiful face should be creased with fear and weariness, but Gai shoves that thought aside for the time being. “You were having a nightmare,” he tells Mikage. “I couldn’t wake you up.” 

Mikage blinks his one eye, and removes his hand from Gai’s jaw, instead measuring his own pulse. He nods, confirming, “I feel like it. I don’t remember...”

This isn’t unusual; Gai has watched Mikage have nightmares like this before, and often he doesn’t remember them. (It doesn’t make Gai worry any less, though.) Gai nods, and now that the danger seems to have passed, he finds it permissible to put his hand in Mikage’s hair, stroking it carefully back from his forehead. This exposes a flash of pale skin and Gai plants a kiss there, indulging himself. Mikage hums low in his throat and nestles closer, wrapping his arms around Gai, and Gai doesn’t move despite the awkward angle they’re now contorted into.

“’m sorry for worrying you,” Mikage says. It’s muffled in Gai’s cheek, audible mostly as vibrations. 

“I’m sorry that you had a nightmare,” Gai replies, his hand still moving through Mikage’s hair. As much as Mikage sleeps, his hair never seems to get greasy or unkempt, the way Gai’s often feels when he wakes up. Mikage leans into Gai’s hand, and then, in movements too fast for Gai to track, tilts his chin up and kisses Gai’s palm, smiling that catlike smile again.

“Cute,” Gai blurts out. 

Mikage smiles up at him. “Hmm.” He reaches for Gai’s hand, placing it back on his own forehead. “Pat my head some more.”

“I can pat your head for five more minutes,” Gai says, “and then I have to attend to the garden.”

“Okay.” Mikage agrees without a fuss, fully aware by this point of the importance of the garden to Gai, to Tsukioka. “Will you come find me later?”

“Please plan on it,” Gai says. 

“Okay.” 

Mikage extricates himself from Gai carefully, unwinding his arms from around Gai’s middle and rolling back into his feet. He stands with obvious reluctance, his back slouched as he tugs the hem of his sweater to rid it of wrinkles. Once he’s adjusted to standing, he gives Gai a tired smile. “See you soon.” Gai watches him pad off towards the hallway door and slip through it, shutting the door neatly behind him. 

Now alone in the garden, Gai allows himself to put his hands to his own cheeks, feeling how warm they are. It’s the way Mikage makes him feel; flustered, jumbled up, like he wants to put his hands everywhere and also like he shouldn’t. The feeling is pleasant and undoubtedly human; he cherishes it, but not as much as he cherishes Mikage. 

The gardening won’t do itself, he laments, turning his attention back to the flowerbeds. But with the promise of finding Mikage inside and curling up with him once he’s done, Gai is excited to finish; there’s a thrill in his belly like the feeling of opening night as he thinks about what the morning holds for him. 

He reaches for his gardening gloves and the shears, ready to begin his work. 

**Author's Note:**

> my partner wanted me to name this "pov you are a crow eating the marigolds" (among other things)
> 
> catch me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/futarinoshoutai) :D


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